


love rain

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Objectively Too Much Fluff, OsaAka Week 2020, Snow, So much fluff I got cavities writing this, This whole fic is just Akaashi waxing about how much he loves Osamu lmao, based on a meme, no betas we die like daichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: Osamu hummed lowly in consideration, meeting Keiji’s gaze for a heartbeat, his lips curving upwards oh so slightly, crookedly and to the right. It was Keiji’s only indication as to his next words. “Bein’ in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a real special feelin’. I like it.”In which Miya Osamu is unfairly sappy, and Akaashi Keiji really hates the cold.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 83
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020





	love rain

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 4 of Osaaka Week: Established Relationship.
> 
> Based on [this](https://twitter.com/brushbugg/status/1287514312651628546/photo/1).

The snowfall had seemed deceptively light at first. As sparse flakes drifted from the sky, a few melting on Keiji’s coat, on the scarf he had bundled around his neck, Keiji had, in a romantic mood for once, possibly because of his boyfriend’s warm presence beside him, actually lifted a hand up gently to the falling snowdrops, opening his palm to catch one or two. As he’d expected, it had drawn a warm chuckle from Osamu and a cheeky, “Collectin’ snowflakes are ya now, Keiji-kun?”

Keiji had only smiled, grasping the hand already held in his boyfriend’s own more firmly and swinging their hands together once, twice, feeling caught up in an almost sort of light-headedness. Slowly, he closed his other palm, bringing it back down to his side. “It’s that sort of day, I suppose,” he had admitted with a happy sigh, earning him a quick kiss on the forehead from Osamu and a muttered, “Yer adorable, ya know that?”

He had barely felt the cold then.

That had been a few hours ago.

It was one of the few days’ off that Keiji had allowed to take for himself this year. They had been apart for three weeks. Three whole weeks, during which time Osamu had gone back to Hyogo to visit his family for a week, and after that been wrapped up in business meetings in separate branches of Onigiri Miya in Nagano and Mie. Keiji had specifically timed it so that it coincided with the weekend Osamu would’ve been in Tokyo as well so that they would be able to spend time together after that separation; he had missed his boyfriend, and so deadlines be damned, he had taken a Friday off to savour him coming home.

The thing was, Shuichi’s birthday was coming up. He hadn’t seen his junior setter in years, but through some sort of finagling, probably Konoha-san’s doing, Keiji was sure of it, his birthday was looking to be some sort of reunion dinner for the old Fukurodani alumn. There was no way Keiji was permitted to miss something even Washio and Bokuto managed to set aside their busy schedules for. His job, however, had prevented him from shopping for a gift before now.

The things he did for his old club, although he did, in fact, miss seeing them. Still, they were the reason why, on a cold February day when he and Osaamu should have by all rights been staying indoors, they were instead wandering around Shibuya City, hunting for the appropriate gift for Keiji’s old kouhai, weaving in and out of Omotesando Hils, stopping by Nonbei-Yokocho for lunch before gift-hunting some more.

He supposed it wasn’t all that bad. Every moment he spent with Osamu was precious, and that was true whether they were in the cozy lamp-lit corners of the Onigiri Miya branch two blocks down from Keiji’s office, or at the stands outside a MSBY Black Jackals’ game, a box of Osamu’s latest sakura shrimp onigiri in Keiji’s hands, or just curled up in their bed in Keiji’s modest apartment, finger to finger, hand to hand, heart to heart entwined. It was true even here in Shibuya, which Keiji had wanted to go to despite his admittedly limited budget because he didn’t get to go out often with Osamu, and here at least they could try out Osamu’s latest possible competition for themselves. It was true despite the gradually plummeting temperatures, despite the huge flurries of snow now pelting on the opened umbrella over their heads in a furious downpour.

Keiji shivered and rubbed his gloved hands together as discreetly as he could, trying to bring some life back onto his numb fingers. He had always been particularly susceptible to the cold; back in Senior High, it had been the main thing he and Kenma had commiserated over, clicking their tongues at their kouhai who always seemed a little over-excited at the prospect, in shared captainly disapproval.

Osamu noticed though, of course. “We can always do this tomorrow, ya know?” he reminded Keiji gently, casually squeezing Keiji’s mittened left hand with his right, before placing it in the pocket of his large overcoat with his own.

Keiji felt his cheeks heat.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s just get this done and over with,” he grimaced. Osamu could be very sweet with his gestures sometimes. Still, Keiji was determined not even an oni from the very gates of the underworld would make him budge out of his apartment tomorrow with Osamu. He had had enough of venturing out for quite a few days, thank you very much.

Somehow, Osamu understood all this with just a glance, for which Keiji was grateful. Throughout the course of their relationship, he had learnt to be more open and honest with his thoughts, knowing that Osamu would always be one to listen, and offer the same. However, their growing intimacy towards each other also meant they had come to anticipate each other’s habits and attitudes, and learn each other’s likes and dislikes. Osamu knew that Keiji was not about to do this again if he could, not anytime soon without Keiji having to voice it aloud. While it made Keiji a little bashful, it made him firmer in his resolve too.

He was going to find a present for Anahori Shuichi if it killed him.

-⚜-

When they finally exited from Takashimaya, said present snug in Keiji’s backpack, the snow had not let up, now being blown about in sideways torrents that their umbrella had no hope of catching. At this rate, Keiji was going to be soaked through, a shallow husk by the time they would get home. As much as possible, Osamu tried to angle his body to catch the worst of it, a fact which Keiji was both thankful and angry for. Thankful, because he had such an amazing boyfriend, and angry because he shouldn’t have had to. Nowhere in the weather forecast – Keiji had double- _and_ triple-checked – had there been indicated that a snowstorm would be imminent.

The strong winds and unrelenting snowfall made it harder to see too. Keiji and Osamu were slowly making their way to the train station, done with their shopping for the day, when a microphone suddenly materialised, inches away from Keiji’s face. Keiji blinked, and it took a moment before the both of them recognised the human shape of a reporter in front of them, what Keiji supposed was smiling through their scarf. “I’m Yamada Miyano from Tokyo Shimbun. Here we are today in front of Shibuya Station, amidst what is one of the heaviest days of snowfall recorded in Tokyo in decades. How do you feel, sir?”

Now that they were still, the cold was pressing in even more on Keiji. He shivered.

“Cold,” he admitted in a soft voice. He could hear his irritation seep through his words regardless, and he ducked his head, abashed, retreating a little into Osamu’s side. His boyfriend rubbed his back briefly in encouragement.

The reporter just laughed good-naturedly though, thrusting the microphone in Osamu’s direction. “And how do _you_ feel about this snowstorm, sir?”

Osamu hummed lowly in consideration, meeting Keiji’s gaze for a heartbeat, his lips curving upwards oh so slightly, crookedly and to the right. It was Keiji’s only indication as to his next words. “Bein’ in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a real special feelin’. I like it.”

Keiji’s free hand shot up to cover his face as he blushed furiously, the reporter letting out peals of laughter escape them as he did so. When he dared to sneak a glance at his boyfriend, Osamu was grinning ear-to-ear, completely unrepentant. Keiji was torn between walking away from him right then and there and kissing the daylights out of him.

In the end he kept his cool, as the reporter thanked them for their time and sent them on their way. Keiji walked for a few steps before he stopped, still feeling the redness high on his cheeks. “Why did you say that?” he asked.

“Why not? It’s true,” Osamu countered. Keiji looked up from the ground, a ready retort on his lips. It died at the look on Osamu’s face when Keiji met his eyes.

Osamu was eyeing him with a soft expression, his own cheeks dusted with a matching red. “Didja not like it?” he continued, the words almost buried by the howling of the wind, just enough for Keiji to make out.

Keiji couldn’t lie, not to those eyes, not to that expression Osamu sometimes made, each one Keiji treasured to the last, like there was no one else in the world, like he never wanted to look anywhere else. “I did,” he said.

Osamu smiled, tugging Keiji closer with the hand that was still snug in his pocket. “C’mere,” he murmured, and Keiji let himself be pulled with no hesitation, wasting no time in reaching for Osamu’s head with a hand, and drawing him in for a kiss. Even through the small lingering threads of his irritation, he could admit he wanted this. Bracketed in Osamu’s arms, his lips warm around his, a hand cradled Keji’s neck gently as he coaxed Keiji’s lips open, gentling against Keiji’s own impatient kisses until Keiji slowed, and matched his rhythm. Their lips met, over and over until they parted, foreheads pressed against each other, breaths intermingling between them. As one, they breathed, once, then once more.

“Hey,” Osamu greeted him softly.

Keiji sighed. “Just kiss me, Osamu.”

And so he did, tucking a stray hair of Keiji’s that had escaped from his beanie to the side of his face and wrapping his arms around Keiji more fully as their lips touched, until Keiji felt warm all the way to the tips of his toes, the cold and the snow and the misery of the day were fading away to distant, non-existent realities in the back of his mind. There was only Osamu and him here. There was only Osamu, making Keiji feel safe and loved, and Keiji was going to hold onto him as long as he was able.

“You’re extremely sappy, you know that?” Keiji finally grumbled against his collar, feeling indescribably happy wrapped up in Osamu’s arms.

Osamu just snorted, thankfully not mentioning the fact that it was Keiji who had initiated the kissing this time. “Ya love me anyway.”

Well, that Keiji could not disagree with. In that moment, all that was on his mind was a single sentence. Yes, he loved Miya Osamu very much.

-⚜-

In the morning, Keiji found out that he and Osamu had somehow made headlines with Osamu’s quote, and even better, the quote was now being circled around Tokyo, attached as it was to the man behind the famous Onigiri Miya, and Miya Atsumu’s twin. People wanted to know about Miya Osamu’s mysterious lover, and Keiji was never happier for the veil of anonymity he had had around his person at the prospect.

After scrolling through some of the comments posted under the short interview of Osamu, most of them squealing at how cheesy and romantic Osamu sounded, Keiji turned to watch the video itself. As he did, he noticed now what he had failed to see yesterday, consumed as he was by thoughts of how much he hated the cold. Osamu had smiled as he said the words, and it was plain to see how the smile extended to reach his eyes, crinkling around the corners like he was imparting a precious secret. Keiji couldn’t get enough of it. _My lover_ , he’d said. Not my _boyfriend_ , or my _partner_. _My lover._

All the comments were right, Keiji’s boyfriend was cheesy as hell, and it just made Keiji want to kiss Osamu all over again. Instead, he saved the video to his camera roll, replaying it to himself while Osamu was busying himself in the kitchen with breakfast. Keiji was enthralled, down to Osamu’s lazy drawl, the way his lips stretched over each syllable, so different from Keiji’s own short, clipped ones, and the way the words dropped like precious jewels from his beautiful, extremely kissable mouth.

Keiji replayed the video with a happy blush, sighing. And when Osamu finally leaned against the door of their bedroom, an invitation to eat on his lips, Keiji pocketed his phone, and rose from the bed to meet him. That gorgeous, infuriating man.

If Osamu noticed a particular hunger in Keiji’s kiss, he didn’t say a word, only kissed harder in response.


End file.
